What's Worth Fighting For
by MissingMommy
Summary: It takes six months and a bomb for Clark to realize just how wrong he was. :: Clark/Dean.


**Spoilers for season 5, episode 13. Established relationship. **

_**Six months earlier**_

You look him in the eyes, and you already know what the other boy is going to say. You smile sadly, waiting for the inevitable.

"I'm sorry," Clark says. His blue eyes plead with yours, begging for forgiveness, which he'll always get without hesitation. "I thought I could do this, but I can't."

You just nod because this has been a long time coming. Clark has been distancing himself from you since he learned how much you want to go into law enforcement. And no matter how much Clark denies it, you're no fool.

"I know," you assure him softly.

It doesn't make him feel any better, though. He looks down, avoiding your stare. "I can't be her. I don't _want_ to be her," he chokes out after a few moments.

Again, you just nod. "I understand, Clark. Trust me. You've seen your mom worry about whether or not your dad will come home at night, wondering whether he'll be killed out on a hot call. And asking you to do go down that path isn't fair. I don't have a right to ask that of you."

His eyes snap up to meet yours, and you see all the guilt written clear as day. He cares about you, more than either of you would like to admit, but it isn't enough to override the fear that is so deeply etched into his heart. What surprises you, however, is the confusion mixed in.

"Why aren't you fighting this?"

You blink twice, blinking back your own confusion, before answering calmly. "Do you really think I'm that selfish? I'm not fighting because I know when to pick a fight, and this isn't something to fight about. I can't change what I want to do with my life, no more than I can change how much you hate it. This is something that we'll never see eye to eye about."

He stares at you with his mouth slightly open, which he closes rather quickly. "I don't want this to end on a bad note, Dean. We still have to see each other when our dads get together," he says softly.

You grin, but it doesn't reach your eyes. "I'm good, if you are. While it won't ever be exactly the way it was before," you pause, and motion between the two of you, "…this, I think we could be civil."

He nods for the first time. "I really am sorry, though," he murmurs.

"I know," you inform him. Before you can stop yourself, you lean forward and press your lips against his one last time. He tastes of sorrow and regret, but you pull back and flash him a sad half-smile.

You watch as he walks out your front door, not as your boyfriend, but as your ex-lover turned best friend again. And your heart just aches, but you won't cry because you're stronger than that.

.

You're supposed to be in school. But with the fact that both your father and ex-boyfriend are in the hospital, Team One allows you to stay at the hospital in your father's room after he gets out of surgery. You sit in the chair next to his bed and just talk to him while he sleeps.

The more you talk, the more you realize that you've been dying to tell your dad everything that had been going wrong in the past six months, but with his job he never has the time to sit down and listen. Now, he has all the time in the world, and you take advantage of that fact.

When the nurses ask you to leave so they can perform a few tests, you make your way to Clark's room. Inside his room are his parents and little sister. His father is sitting in the corner, his head bowed slightly as he debates whether or not to go to work, while his mother and sister are sitting at the chair closer to Clark. When you enter the room, his father's head snaps up.

"Dean! What are you doing here? Didn't you have school today?" he questions you, his voice firm.

"No," you answer. "They kicked me out of dad's room, so I thought I'd come see how he was doing." At that, your eyes flicker over to him.

He's lying on the bed, covered in a crisp white sheet. His right arm is lying on top of the sheet, wrapped in a dark blue cast. There's scratches that line his face, that hopefully won't be permanent and he's rather pale. Seeing him like this, so broken, _hurts_, but you can't take your eyes off him.

His father must see the fear in your stare, because he puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. "It looks worse than it really is," he assures you, squeezing your shoulder. He then drops his hand and makes his way over to his wife. "I'll be back after shift," he whispers before kissing her and placing a kiss on Izzie's forehead.

You nod at him, without ever taking your eyes off Clark's sleeping form. His mother gives you a soft smile. "He's going to be okay, Dean," she says. Her eyes flicker back to Clark before standing with Izzie. "We're going to get some food. Do you mind just sitting in here in case he wakes up?"

"Not at all," you reply, moving to take her abandoned seat. You watch as she disappears out the door before turning back towards him. "Of all people to get hurt it just _had_ to be you, didn't it?" you question him. Clark stirs at the sound of your voice, but doesn't fully wake up. "You scared the shit out of me," you add on.

There's silence for a long time before he groans and his eyes flutter open. "Where am I?" he asks, his voice raw. He tries to sit up, but you've already moved to push him back down.

He blinks a few more time, obviously trying to get the world into focus. When he looks up at you blankly, you finally answer him. "You're at the hospital. Don't you remember?"

"Yeah," he says, groaning again. "Can't exactly forget a car caving in on you."

You roll your eyes at him, but you can't keep the smile of relief off your face. "How are you feeling?" is your next question.

Clark grimaces as he moves into a more comfortable position. "Like a car crushed me," he says humorlessly. "Did they catch the bomber?"

You nod. And the two of you fall quiet. You can't help but stare at him because you realize how close you came to losing him. Because the six months he wasn't yours, when you couldn't hold him, kiss him, love him didn't change how you feel about him and you're sure it won't ever change it. And during that time, it was killing you to pretend you didn't care about him more than just a friend. If he felt the same thing, he hid it well.

His rough voice brings you out of your thought. "You know," he whispers, shattering the silence into a thousand pieces. "I was wrong." It takes you several seconds to process what he said, but once it clicks, you grin.

The hospital room probably isn't the best place to have this conversation because he doesn't want his preferences to be widely known, but at this moment, you don't care. You've waited six months to hear him say those three words. Six months of pretending, of hurting, of praying this moment would come.

"When I was trapped, all I could think about was my parents and sister and you. And I realized that I didn't think I could handle the not knowing, but not being with you is even worse," he murmurs. But in the small room, his voice just echoes.

Instead of replying, you press your lips against his because there are no words to describe how happy you are to hear those words spill out of his mouth. He tastes of apologizes and regrets, and you think he's never tasted better. You pull away and grin at him.

"Are we good?" he asks.

You nod, press a chaste kiss against his lips and murmur, "Yeah. We're good." You take your previous seat with a smile on your face.

He asks about his injuries and his recuperation, while you hold his left hand in your hands, tracing the words "I love you" into his skin.

**A/n – so many thanks to my lovely wife, Paula, for beta-ing this for me even though she had no idea what was going on.**

**Written for the 5, 10, 20, 50, 70, 100 fandom challenge**


End file.
